It's Not a Side Effect of the Morphine
by xx Gecko Homicide
Summary: I am thinking it must be love. l i l y & j a m e s
1. Preface

**Preface**

**Author's Notes ;; **Ashleigh wrote this chapter. I am not Ashleigh, so I can't give you much insight. I can, however, tell you that originally there were two preludes, one in Lily's point of view and one in James's, and that the one in James's was actually better than this one. It didn't make the cut, though, because we didn't want to write any of the rest of the story through his gorgeous hazel eyes.

**Notes on this Fic ;; **Ashleigh and I (Jazzi) are writing this together. We trade off every other chapter. Our writing styles may not be very much alike, but we're trying very hard to make the story flow. It's our first shot at it.

Also, it should be noted that, yes, we know Alice belongs with Frank Longbottom and yes, we know, she's not an original character and, yes, we know her last name probably wasn't Prewett. If you happen to know for sure what it was (the Lexicon doesn't) we would be very delighted to partake of your vast knowledge.

**Disclaimer ;;** Ashleigh and Jazzi are not rich. Ashleigh and Jazzi are not British. Ashleigh and Jazzi are not J. K. Rowling or Warner Brothers. Ashleigh and Jazzi are just two teenagers who are afraid of lawyers.

Do you ever feel like you've planned out your life to the T, making every calculation and planning the outcome of every situation? Do you ever feel like your entire life is a story that's already been written, and even though you were the one who wrote it, you have no control in it?

Well, then, have you ever looked back, and realized that everything you ever did, everything you ever planned and succeeded in, made you reach a place that you never wanted to be in, a place that you can't escape from?

Well, that's what happened to me.

But, the problem is… sometimes… a part of me doesn't want to escape. 

A part of me loves loving him.


	2. The Hypocrasy of Amorentia

**Author's Notes ;; **Jazzi again. I have reason to believe that Ashleigh has fallen victim to an evil government plot and been removed from the face of the planet. She hasn't been on AIM in nearly three days, and before that she was being slow (gasp!) about writing the second chapter. I believe my beloved has been replaced by an android.

No worries, though. I wrote this chapter. There's not a lot to say about it, other than if you're used to my writing, my chapters are usually longer. I just tried to leave off at a good point for Ash to jump in.

**Disclaimer ;;** Jazzi does not own Harry Potter. She is, however, in the process of overthrowing the government in order to rescue her favorite angstbunny, and if an opportunity to snitch the identities of J. K. Rowling and/or Warner Bros. comes up, I'm not about to turn it down.

There was a reason I wore my obnoxiously unruly copper mane in a strict, tidy bun, I reminded myself with a growl. And it wasn't just because the wiry curls sprang out at every angle, resembling a disgruntled circus clown more than an upright seventeen-year-old. And it wasn't just because a strand here and there fell limp and hung stubbornly into my left eye.

No, mostly it was because of the way James Potter—Head Boy to my Head Girl, bane to my existence, thorn to my side, Goliath to my David, Beast to my Beauty, Romeo to my Juliet—gawked at it, open-mouthed, and couldn't come up with anything nasty to say.

It was more distracting than being half blind. I lifted my emerald eyes from the violet liquid peacefully simmering in my cauldron to throw a glare at the bespectacled boy behind me. He didn't flinch.

"Potter," I hissed between my teeth. "Potter, cut it the fuck out."

The shaggy-haired boy sitting next to the Bane of my Existence whispered something in his ear and grinned at me. "Whatsamatter, Evans?" he drawled. "Jealous?"

"Of what?" I snapped, but the color drained instantly from my cheeks. Only then did I notice that Potter's glassy eyes were not directed at me, but at my fair-haired Potions partner. "You're annoying Alice," I remedied, and spun back to my cauldron as shame and broken hubris flooded my cheeks. I felt no relief.

"Psst," the shaggy-haired boy hissed at my back, his voice sultry, masculine, and entirely fake. "Oi, Evans."

I clinched my jaw. "What, Black?" I snarled in an attempt to fight the tears welling in my eyes. My tear ducts were inexplicably wired to my temper, and my uncontrollable, fly-off-the-handle red-head emotions were not always subject to my willpower. But I would not cry. Not here. Not in front of everyone. 

But I was spared both an argument and the remains of my dignity. Professor Slughorn (God bless him!) pushed his armchair away from his desk with a loud screech. I squared my shoulders with respect for my savior.

He cleared his throat with evident glee. Everyone fell silent, with the exception of Sirius Black, who was still laughing at his own private joke. "I have given you two class periods, more than enough time to brew a proper Amorentia. Now, let's have you all lean over your cauldrons and tell the class what you smell."

I shuffled, reluctant, just close enough to my cauldron to be able to determine the scent. Unlike the rest of the class, I wasn't particularly fond of the scent of my love potion—as if I needed further proof that there was something wrong with me. 

"Miss Evans," I jumped. "As the very essence of Slytherin house—"

"May I have been hanged had the Sorting Hat agreed with you—"

"—This should be interesting. Have at it. What does the serpent love best?"

I bit back a groan. "Well," hesitantly, "there's cedar . . . and alcohol—like strong butterbeer—and grass . . . dirt . . . sweat . . . dust . . . and shampoo."

I wrinkled my nose at the smell. Had I been standing any closer, I would have gagged. My cheeks were pale underneath my freckles, though, and I couldn't understand the knowing glances shot between my fellow Gryffindors in the dungeon. It bothered me.

I didn't heat Alice's list, and the only word of Black's that I picked up on was "panties." Had it not been for the wicked grin, the grin that was reserved for when he was about to do something really stupid, I might have missed Potter's, too.

Instead, I winced, and I knew I wouldn't like what he said when he stepped forward and breathed deep from his cauldron. I just didn't expect it to be, "Alice Prewett."

My best friend.

And, though my eyes were blinded by angry tears, something was suddenly painfully clear: cedar, alcohol, grass, dirt, sweat, dust, shampoo—my Amorentia was an imperfect replication of Potter's pillowcase.

And it wasn't just the smell that made me nauseous.


	3. Headstrong

**Disclaimer: We are not JKR. We don't claim to own James, Lily, or anyone here really. We know Alice's real last name probably isn't Prewitt.**

**Author's Note: **Hello. Ashleigh here. So, I finally got around to finishing this chapter. It isn't nearly as good as anything that Jazzi has written, but get over it. See you in chapter four.

Oh, and review please

* * *

I still don't know when it started.

But as I watch Alice get ready for her fifth – or was it sixth? – date with Potter, I curse myself for not realizing sooner.

Was there something that I could have done?

When was that last time he asked me out, the last time when instead of insulting him, I could have said "I'd like that…"

When was the last time he commented the way the color of my eyes meshed well with my robes, when I could have commented back that the way his hair hung so elegantly messy wasn't really all that bad…

Why did I have to be a stubborn prat?

I could have so easily had him all to myself, and then I wouldn't have had to worry about stupid Alice and the fact that I was head over heels for her stupid boyfriend.

Why couldn't he be mine?

"LILY!" Alice's voice broke into my reverie.

"…Yes?" she asked looking up.

"I've been calling you for the past few minutes… Anyway, do I look all right? D'you think he'll like this dress on me? Or is it too trashy? I don't want to seem easy…" her friend trailed off, looking at her questioningly.

"No, no, it looks fine. Great. He'll love it." I gave her a big smile. I've been surprisingly glad to find out that I'm good at hiding how I really feel, saying one thing and meaning something completely different, without anyone noticing.

That's just one less thing I have to worry about.

I walked Alice to the door, quickly deciding against following her to the common room.

It would be nearly impossible for me to see the reunion again.

I could stand to see the way he looked at her.

It made me so mad to see them kissing.

Just thinking about it made me want to vomit.

Sometimes I just wanted to run up and rip them apart, yelling at them... doing anything I could to make them understand that it physically hurt me to see them together.

I mumbled something about writing a letter to mum, shooing Alice out of the room with as much of a smile as I could offer.

Sitting down in a stiff chair, I closed my eyes and let my facade drop for a moment.

Was it always going to be like this?

What if they got married, and happily had four children and a lovely little barnowl? What would I do then?

I couldn't continue with this charade for forever.

Maybe I should just stop hanging around with Alice.

As much as the idea should have hurt, I was surprised that I actually liked it.

If I stayed away from both her and James, then there would be no pain, right?

I hadn't ever really been with James, so I couldn't really miss him, could I?

He'd already stopped doing all the little things that I was (secretly) fond of.

Forming the plan in my mind was probably much easier than it would be to carry out, but...

Maybe I was actually getting somewhere.

Maybe I was actually going to be able to restore whatever happiness James had stolen when he began to date that foul girl.

Or... my best friend, rather.

Was I really that mean?

Did I really not care about her anymore?

Opening my eyes to glance around the room, I frowned.

Because really, compared to James, losing Alice was nothing.


	4. Please Don't Seek

**Author's Notes ;;** Jazzi again. I told you Ash's amazing. :) For the record, Professor Vector is the Arithmancy teacher at Hogwarts in Harry's time. Septima is a tenative first name, because it was in J. K. Rowling's notes, but other things on her notes have been changed. The middle name is completely mine. 

**Disclaimer ;; Not. Ours.**

Loosing Alice was like being a snake and finally shedding a skin that had been too tight for too long. Awkward, at first. I felt naked with no secure pockets to tuck all of my secrets inside, but the friendship between Alice and I had been run through the wash and come out too small to hold the only secret that really mattered anymore. Clinging to her would have been clinging to a single thread that once had been a security blanket.

I found new friends, old acquaintances who were suddenly little pots in which to keep my thoughts. A few here, a few there, never ladling out the full story into any opening so that none would overflow. And slowly, without meaning to, I discovered that one of the pots was just a little bigger, and began to favor her over the others.

She was a little Ravenclaw who went by Tim (or sometimes Tiny Tim, but only amongst us muggleborns, and only behind her back) because Septima Armaria Vector was quite a bit longer than she was. Strange, I thought, that such a small vessel could hold all of the knowledge that Alice's long, rounded bosom could not. In another lifetime, I had been Tim's rival in Arithmancy, but seeing Alice with James had shaken by hold on my studies, and now I needed Tim much more than I needed an O.

Tim was not a replacement Alice by any means. I had shaken off my torn black robes in favor of gray ones--not as vibrant, not as strong, but able to keep out the bitter cold of James's indifference. Tim's violet eyes were always serious behind her chestnut bangs, her thin lips pressed tightly and turned downwards at the ends. There was no laughter between us to lift the heaviness in my chest, but I did not have to hide that I struggled to breathe.

It was, I felt, less than I deserved.

To be fair, Alice did her part to keep me. She would crawl into bed with me when I chose to sleep in the seventh year dorm instead of the Heads' and whisper about her most recent date, and I knew that she meant me to share my secrets as well, but I remained distant. Eventually, she learned to talk to girls like Polly Akin who giggled and questioned, and I knew that she took as much pleasure in her new role as I took comfort in mine.

After a month, I began to sleep again in the richly decorated bedroom that was my privilege as Head Girl. After three, I never visited the seventh year dorm again.

One night, I lay in my wide, comfortable bed with the hangings wide open, staring at the gleam of moonlight on the handle of the skinny door set into the opposite wall. It led, I knew, into a common room that I shared with the Head Boy. (I had stopped saying his name, even to myself, when I had stopped sleeping in the old dorm. It made talking about him much more difficult, though I could never truly stop thinking about him--not even for an instant.)

Though I had cast a silencing charm three long months ago, his voice carried into my room and wound around my bed as though I were sitting beside him, enveloped in his arms. It carried with it a second voice, a female voice I didn't recognize at first. In only months I had begun to erase memories of Alice, replacing them with memories of him that seemed to grow more vibrant with time.

No, I thought stubbornly, pushing back the covers. They would not bother me here. Not when I had worked so hard at pushing them away. I walked to the door, trembling as I came even this much closer to the source of my agony, and cast a second charm. With a great effort I managed to push a bookcase over the door, obscuring it from my sight, for good measure.

His voice lingered like perfume, and his scent still crept between the cracks in the shelves. It was less pungent here than on Alice's robes every night when she returned to the dorm, but suddenly I found it difficult to sleep. I lay trembling beneath two frozen sheets until the first rays of light crept into my room.

Then I rose, dressed shakily, and went to breakfast.


End file.
